2003 was quite a
year. The space shuttle Columbia crashed
in February of that year upon re-entry, with pieces of debris scattered all
over East Texas. In March, the US
launched war on Iraq. SARS ravaged 32
countries around the world, and in August a major blackout affected New York
City for 29 hours. Elizabeth Smart was
found alive - 9 months after she was kidnapped, American Idol was the most
popular TV show, and John Ritter died suddenly at the age of 54.
While all of
those are events that the world remembers, one major event occurred in my life
in October of that year which impacted me personally more than any of those
things …
For me, October
6, 2003 was a day much like any other.
It was a Monday, and I spent the day cleaning house, and doing
laundry. We were having a gospel meeting
that week, so my focus was on making sure I was organized enough to facilitate
evening meals, the kids’ homework schedules, getting us ready and to services
on time, and getting the kids to bed at a reasonable hour. The girls were in 7th grade, had
just turned 13, and were heavily involved in school activities and band. Caleb was 10, in 5th grade, and
loving life in Mrs. Letsinger’s class.
It was just a typical Monday of a gospel meeting week, or at least
that’s what I thought…
We attended the
meeting that evening, and returned home to find several messages on our
answering machine from my brother, asking me to call him as soon as
possible. I immediately returned his
call, and I will never forget that conversation. He told me that our father had been in an
accident. I asked what happened, and he
told me that Daddy had apparently fallen out of his deer stand. Thinking that he was probably injured, I next
asked if he was at home, or in one of the local hospitals. The answer I received was totally unexpected
. . . My brother’s word-for-word answer
to that question is forever burned into my memory. Todd simply said, “He’s apparently been dead
for quite some time.”
The plans of my
week took a sudden change with those words.
I spent the week at my mother’s house, and instead of school, meal prep,
homework help, and gospel meeting attendance, my time was filled with funeral
planning, choosing a casket, picking out burial clothes, speaking with a
coroner, and receiving endless hugs of comfort.
I can still vividly remember the events of each day of that week, and
the feelings associated with them. It
was to date the worst week of my life.
A lot has
happened in the ensuing 10 years. Our
kids are grown, the girls have graduated from college, and Sarah is
married. We’ve added on to our house,
drive a different vehicle, and have taken several family vacations. Others in my life have joined my Daddy in
that home of the soul, including his mother, his cousin, and several of his
friends. My mother has remarried, and
the tiny camellia bush given to us in my Dad’s memory has grown quite large in
our backyard. All of these things
signify how life goes on.
I have found
over the past 10 years that time is a wonderful healer. Yes, I still miss my daddy, but I remember him more often with smiles now than with tears. I miss talking to him and seeking his wisdom
and advice. I miss his laugh, his hugs,
and the special and unique love that a father has for his only daughter. Those things are irreplaceable, and the void
will always be felt. I have missed him
most profoundly at those life changing times, like when Caleb was baptized,
when my Granny (his mother) passed away, or when any of my children have
accomplished something significant in their young lives. I especially miss the way he loved my
children. I thought about him a lot this
past summer, when his granddaughters received degrees from Texas A&M
University – he would’ve been so proud.
He was also silently tucked, but prominent in my thoughts at Sarah’s
wedding. Her ring bearer carried Daddy’s
Bible – no notice was taken of that by most of the people who were there, but
those of us who knew and loved my Daddy noticed – and remembered him, wishing
he could’ve been there.
Shortly after
Daddy’s death, a dear friend pointed out to me that my deep grief was really a
blessing – she told me that the reason I hurt so much was because I had loved
so much, which spoke to the strength of our relationship. She was right. I am forever thankful for the blessing I had
to have such a wonderful daddy for 37 years.
He shaped my life. He taught me
to love God. Because of that, I have the
hope of seeing him again in a place where there will be no more parting or
sorrow. What more could a daughter ask
for in a daddy?
And so this
week, I think about him more than most weeks.
And I also think about death, which is good for all of us to do. My daddy had no knowledge when he awoke
perfectly healthy on the morning of October 6, 2003 that he would be dead
before noon. Think about that. Could you be dead before noon today? Could I?
We tend to shrug at the thought of that, don’t we? Sure, we could,
but we probably won’t, so what do we
do? We live each day like we have the
promise of tomorrow, when in reality we don’t
even have the promise of the next minute.
“Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’ You do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, ‘If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.’ As it is, you boast in your arrogant schemes. All such boasting is evil. If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them.” (James 4:13-17) Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we all lived every single day with the attitude that we might be dead before noon? What better honor could I give to my Daddy – and to my Heavenly Father – than to do just that.
“I have his cup,
my Daddy’s cup, cracked and worn across the rim. His favorite book – the Book of books, whose
pages now are dim. You could not buy
them from me with all the world’s most precious gems; But I would gladly give
them all for one more day with him.” ~D. Morgan
